


get a grip

by mickeysupset



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, vague season five spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-21 10:08:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2464406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickeysupset/pseuds/mickeysupset
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing in this world compares to the comfort and security of having someone just hold your hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	get a grip

**Author's Note:**

> **prompt: ohhh mickey holding ians arm in 2x08, or just hand holding in general**
> 
>  
> 
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> 
> So yeah. This is unlike anything I've written before and I'm a little nervous about it. I really like it though, but let me know exactly how y'all feel after you read it!
> 
> Vague season five spoilers towards the end.

The first time they hold hands, it’s an accident.

It also happens to be the first time they are fucking too, but that’s also kind of an accident.

Ian Gallagher had expected a pounding when he stormed into the Milkovich house looking for Kash’s gun, but he got a whole different kind of pounding. Actually, it could be said that he is the one doing the pounding.

Anyway…

The first time they hold hands, it’s an accident.

Mickey is on his hands and knees in front of him, whimpering while trying to hide it. Ian’s dick is up his ass and Ian is leaned over Mickey’s body, his forehead resting on the back of Mickey’s neck as he moves inside of the other boy.

There are no words passed between them, only sharp breaths and choked moans. Ian is in the process of leaving bruises on Mickey’s hips when a hand shoots out and hits him on the thigh.

“Me too, man.” Ian manages to say. Though his mind is in a haze, he knows exactly what Mickey is trying to tell him.

Mickey’s hand stays in place on his thigh, digging his nails into Ian’s flesh as he accidentally lets out a soft moan. Instinctively, Ian reaches down and grabs a hold of Mickey’s hand, just as the two of them reach their peaks and fall over at the same time.

It’s minutes later and their hands are still somewhat linked and Ian is laying on top of Mickey, both of them trying to catch their breath. It’s actually not until they are under Mickey’s red blanket and Terry is walking through the room does Mickey tear his hand away from Ian’s.

“Kiss me and I’ll cut your fucking tongue out.”

Mickey doesn’t let Ian kiss him that day, but Ian doesn’t mind.

He got what he needed.

* * *

 

The second time they hold hands, it’s not an accident.

Ian knows exactly what he is doing when he grabs Mickey’s hand as he pins him up against the steel shelf of the Kash & Grab.

Ian wants Mickey to help him forget, but he wants more. He needs more.

He needs more than just an ass on his dick to make him forget that his mother is once again only a few stops on the L away from him.

He needs more than black hair shoved up his nose as he pounds away into the older boy in front of him to make him forget that everything in his life is falling apart.

He needs to feel grounded and that is why he latches on to Mickey’s hand and refuses to let go.

Mickey does nothing to throw him off. He’s either too far in the moment to care or he knows Ian needs this and chooses to ignore it… or he could be waiting to kick Ian’s ass until after he gets off.

Ian hopes it’s a combination of the first too, but whatever.

It’s exactly what he needs.

Minutes later, Mickey’s hand is gone, no longer Ian’s anchor, but instead now being used to push Kash out of the way and throw open the front door of the store.

Ian’s hand is cold and he knows it’s not do to the cold temperature of the freezer.

* * *

 

The third time they hold hands, there is blood on the floor and tomato sauce all over the shelves.

It’s been hours since they were caught and Mickey steals a candy bar, Kash pulls out a gun and shots are fired.

“Holy shit!”

Keeping an eye on Kash, Ian does not hesitate to run to Mickey’s side, where he grabs Mickey’s thigh, hoping to stop the bleeding. When that doesn’t work, he goes for Mickey’s head.

“Hey, hey.”

Mickey’s trying to look tough, but it’s easy for Ian to tell that he’s panicking.

“Look at me! Look at me!”

After telling Kash that he “fucking sucks,” Mickey focuses his attention on Ian and looks up into his eyes.

This time, it’s Mickey who initiates the contact, his hand shaky and clammy in the palm of Ian’s hand.

Ian doesn’t mind though and holds it until he hears the cops coming in the distance.

* * *

 

The fourth time they hold hands, they don’t even hold hands.

They can’t even hold hands.

That doesn’t stop Ian from trying though.

He knows Mickey can hold his own against anyone but that doesn’t keep Ian from worrying.

Mickey looks so little compared to all the giant older men he’s surrounded by in the county jail as he awaits sentencing.

Mickey sounds like a child as he yells at some other inmate about jello.

Ian tries to push those thoughts away though and just focus on the fact that it's nice to see Mickey.

As hard as Mickey tries, Ian still notices his soft eyes and shy smiles. Ian still hears the nervous tone in his voice and the way he tries to play off Ian’s “I miss you.”

None of it fools Ian.

So when he lifts his hand up to the glass, he doesn’t really know what he’s doing. He just knows he wants some sort of connection, something to make these future months apart go by faster.

“Take your hand of the glass.”

Oh well. At least he tried.

* * *

 

The fifth time they hold hands, it happens in segments.

Mickey is fresh out of juvie and they can barely see each other under the shade of the dugouts.

The first occurrence is when Mickey asks him to shotgun a beer. As he helps Ian hold the can up to his lips, their fingers brush against each other and Ian feels electricity shoot straight down his arm. He hopes more than anything that Mickey felt the same thing.

He’ll probably never know.

The second occurrence is after they’ve fucked once, done pull ups, talked about community college and shooting stars, and fucked again.

They are leaving the dugout when Ian trips, the weed and the beer already going straight to his head, and ends up sprawled against the dust of the baseball diamond.

“Okay there, clumsy feet. Get the fuck up.” Mickey says as he has the audacity to snicker above a downed Ian. Ian, never one to pass up the opportunity of physical contact, holds his hand out towards Mickey and smiles widely.

“Give me a hand?” Ian asks. “Or better yet, how about you lay down next to me and we can watch those shooting stars like you wanted.”

Mickey smirks down at Ian and kicks him lightly in the chest before he grabs a hold of Ian and yanks him off the ground.

Ian swears Mickey holds on for one second too long and actually squeezes his hand lightly before he lets go for good.

But maybe that’s just the booze talking.

* * *

 

The sixth time they hold hands, they are boyfriends, no matter what the fuck Mickey says or doesn’t say.

Ian knows it for a fact.

He’s fairly confident that Mickey knows it too, especially during the times when Mickey has all of his walls down. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, Ian takes the opportunity and runs.

This is one of those times. The moment Ian walks into the Kash and Grab, he can tell that something is wrong with Mickey. The older boy looks haggard but he always looks a little disheveled with his new beard, but this time there was something else behind his blue eyes.

“Hey, I got your text. Are you okay?” Ian asks as he locks the door behind him, throws his backpack behind the counter, and races towards Mickey, who is already making his way towards the freezer.

“I’m fine.” Mickey barks as he tears off his jacket and starts to unzip his pants. “Are we going to chit chat all day or are we going to fucking do this?”

It’s then Ian notices the giant bruises poorly hidden by Mickey’s blue tank top. He lets out a startled sound as he reaches out and tries to stop Mickey from moving any further.

“Wait, wait, wait. What the fuck are those?”

Mickey barely looks at him and pulls himself out of Ian’s grasp, faces the wall and bends over.

Yeah. Ian was not going to fall for that.

“Mickey.” He says forcefully, ignoring the ass on display. (He was kind of proud of his ability to do that.)

Mickey huffs and turns around. “What the fuck do you want from me, Gallagher?”

“You’re the one who texted me and asked me to come here before school. You look like crap and I just want to know what the hell is wrong with you!” Ian exclaims, growing frustrated with the man in front of him.

“It was my dad, alright?!” Mickey roars as he gets up in Ian’s face. “I smoked his last cigarette last night and he kicked the shit out of me. Is that what you wanted to hear, asshole?”

Within an instant, all of Ian’s anger vanishes and he’s standing right in front of Mickey, wanting nothing more than to take the older boy’s face in his hands but afraid of what Mickey might do.

“Mickey.” Ian whispered. “Mickey, are you okay?”

Mickey leaned forward towards Ian, his walls crumbling a piece at a time. “Just-” He broke off and shifted away from Ian just a little. “Can you just shut up for a little bit?”

_Can you just help me forget?_

Soon, Ian is inside of Mickey, who has one leg over Ian’s shoulder and the other wrapped around Ian’s waist. From this angle, Ian can see everything, feel everything, experience everything.

He can see every expression on Mickey’s face as they both work towards their finish. He can feel Mickey’s left hand wrapped around his elbow, holding them both in their perfect position. He can experience Mickey’s other hand wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling him in just a little bit closer.

Ian swats Mickey’s hand away from his neck and laces their fingers together. He clutches the hand close to his chest as he shifts his hips and finds the a better angle in Mickey. They have their heads thrown back in ecstasy when they hear it.

“Hello, boys.”

It looks like Terry Milkovich isn’t the only father they need to worry about it.

* * *

 

The seventh time they hold hands happens when Ian breaks his own vow.

When Mickey Milkovich punched his way into a second stint of juvie, Ian vowed to move on and keep a distance.

Ian did not visit Mickey in juvie and he slept with other people. There was the kid from ROTC, the guy from the movie theater, that twink from the nightclub, and of course there was Ned.

He didn’t expect Mickey to just stroll back into his life while he was in the middle of the fuck.

He didn’t expect Mickey to just want to fall back into a rhythm like none of the words exchanged from last summer mattered.

He didn’t expect for Mickey to fuck Angie Zago nor did he expect for Mickey to get jealous of Ned.

So when Mickey confronts him and his date in the middle of a North Side street, Ian feels himself start to melt. The feeling passes the moment Mickey headbutts Ned, but quickly returns as they run away from the cops together.

Ian feels alive for the first time in months. Ian feels like things are almost back to normal with Mickey for the first time in months. Ian feels young again for the first time in months.

They run, push and wrestle their way through alley ways, no longer running away from the cops but rather just being the teenagers that they are.

Eventually, Ian grabs Mickey by the hand and throws him up against the wall, one hand braced on the wall next to Mickey’s head and the other pinning the shorter boy’s hand against the bricks.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Ian half asks, half laughs.

Mickey simply smiles up at him and shrugs lightly, running on adrenaline.

Ian feels Mickey grip his hand a little bit harder before he pushes Ian off of him and takes off running down the alley way.

“Tag! You’re it, Gallagher!”

And Ian found himself once again running after the boy.

* * *

 

The eighth time they hold hands, it’s at a sleepover.

“It’s not a fucking sleepover.”

Whatever.

The eighth time they hold hands, it’s at a sleepover and Under Siege is playing in the background, but neither Ian or Mickey are paying attention.

Clothes are off and kisses, a new and welcome development between them, are being shared.

Mickey pushes Ian down onto the scratchy surface of the dirty Milkovich couch and kisses him hard. Ian’s lips part easily under his and the kiss turns deeper within seconds.

Soon, Mickey is moaning louder than ever, arching his back deeply as he rides Ian into the cushions. Ian is right there with him, trying to find purchase on Mickey’s hips as he loses his mind right along with the man on top of him.

It’s over too soon in Ian’s opinion, but it’s also the best fuck they’ve ever had.

They need to do this sleepover thing more often.

It’s later that night when the hands are finally held.

Ian lays on his back in Mickey’s bed, looking up at the cracks in the ceiling, and thinks back to the first time he and Mickey fucked. He can’t help but think about how much has changed since then.

Mickey lays on his side next to him, facing Ian but already asleep. Ian shifts his gaze from the ceiling to look at Mickey and he just watches him sleep.

It’s the first time he’s ever had the opportunity and he’s not going to take it for granted.

Mickey Milkovich is a cute sleeper. Don’t mention that to him though… it might not end well.

Mickey mumbles something in sleep, eyelids fluttering. Ian smiles and shifts to his side so that he is facing his bed partner. He shifts an inch closer, wanting to get as much out of this moment as he can.

Being the daredevil that he is, Ian reaches down and slips his hand into Mickey’s, wanting some sort of contact with the sleeping boy but not wanting to push any unknown boundaries.

As he drifts off, he feels Mickey clutch his hand back even harder and scoot another inch closer.

\---

The next morning, their hands are no longer being used for soft touches or sleepy reassurances.

Instead, they are being used for self defense.

* * *

 

The ninth time they hold hands, it’s right before Mickey’s wedding.

It’s the first time Ian has seen Mickey in weeks and it’s the first time he’s had an actual discussion with him in months.

If Ian didn’t feel so hurt, he’d probably be reveling in all the Mickeyness he was currently experiencing.

Unfortunately there is yelling and bad memories and whispered pleas.

And then there are stares and kisses and legs wrapped around Ian’s waist as he drives into Mickey.

“Ian. Ian. Ian.” Mickey chants, blue eyes wide open and head thrown back.

“Mickey.” Ian whispers right back, sounding just as wrecked as the boy in the ill fitted suit. He hikes Mickey’s legs higher up and shifts his hands around so that one is holding on tighter to the older man’s hip as the other hand searches for a certain tattooed hand.

He soon finds it and holds on tight, feeling as though there is a special union taking place in the basement instead of the one that is supposed to be taking place upstairs.

It is all soon over though and Ian’s happiness is short lived.

“You can wait here for me. It shouldn’t take more than a hour, alright? You better be ready for round two.”

Once again there is yelling and bad memories and whispered pleas.

There are no more stares and kisses though.

And then it’s an hour later and Mickey’s hand is being held by someone else and Ian’s hand is holding a vodka bottle.

* * *

 

The tenth time they hold hands, it’s not even real. It’s all in Ian’s head.

It’s all he can think about as he sits on the bus to Basic Training.

_"Don't"_

What could have happened if Mickey had just finished his sentence?

What could have happened if Mickey had just told him not to go?

The feeling of Mickey’s hand in his if they could run away together.

Run away from fathers and siblings and wives and babies.

What could have happened?

* * *

 

The eleventh time they hold hands, Ian’s not even completely conscious.

He barely remembers seeing Mickey again. He barely remembers making it out of the Fairy Tale.

He somewhat remembers the feeling of Mickey heaving him over his shoulder though and carrying him to a car, Mickey’s big strong hands wrapped around his.

He somewhat remembers being wrestled into the Milkovich house.

Everything else is blur, just the way it has been for months.

* * *

 

The twelfth time they hold hands, it’s in some Northside apartment.

Ian wakes up on an uncomfortable couch bed after hearing the word “Together” fall out of Mickey Milkovich’s mouth.

It’s all he can do not to tackle the obviously flustered man back down on to the bed and kiss him the same way they had the night before. He controls himself though, knowing he’s probably toeing a thin line just by Mickey being in this apartment.

Mickey is looking around the apartment, nervous but trying to play it off. His right hand is resting on the bed close by, so Ian makes a move to grab it. He gives the tattooed hand a squeeze which catches Mickey’s attention.

He gets a small smile in return.

It’s really starting to feel good to be home.

* * *

 

The thirteenth time they hold hands, Ian’s actually holding a knife to Kenyatta’s neck.

He’s not really sure how it happened, but it did and it happened fast.

The original plan was to stop Mickey from killing Kev. How that turned into him almost killing Mandy’s boyfriend? Who knows.

“Ian. Look at me.”

Mickey’s hand wraps around his and gently pulls the knife away from Kenyatta’s throat.

“We’re cool. Everything’s cool.”

Next thing Ian knows, he’s standing outside, Mickey is yelling, and Frank is getting married.

* * *

 

The fourteenth time they hold hands, it feels like deja vu.

Ian is pretty sure they are in the exact position that started this whole thing.

The fourteenth time they holds hands, Ian gets a commitment.

He trades “I was just wondering if we’re a couple or not.” for “Of course we are.”

Too bad he wants more.

* * *

 

The fifteenth time they hold hands, Ian got what he wanted, but they are both bloody and sore, Mickey is the town’s newest gossip piece, and Terry Milkovich is back in jail.

It happens as they both walk home from the Alibi, barely able to hobble along and somewhat leaning on each other. They are about a block away from the Milkovich home when Ian drags Mickey into an alleyway and just allows himself to hug the older boy.

Mickey is shaking slightly but wraps his arms around Ian’s waist anyway, letting out something akin to a sob.

Ian clings to him harder and starts whispering nonsensical words into his ear.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry, Mick.” Ian mutters, still imagining the look on Mickey’s face as he came out to his father. “I’m so proud of you though. I’m so so proud of you.”

He feels Mickey’s grip around his waist tighten and Ian buries his face into Mickey’s hair. “I’m so sorry, Mickey.”

The third apology causes Mickey to pull away slightly, move his hands up to cup Ian’s face, and smile weakly.

Ian quickly moves his hands on top of Mickey’s, just wanting to feel as close to the brave boy as possible.

Mickey doesn’t acknowledge Ian’s apologies or really anything Ian is saying. In fact, he still looks a little dazed.

Ian lowers their joined hands and uses them to pull Mickey out of the alleyway.

“Let’s go clean you up, tough guy.”

* * *

 

The sixteenth time they hold hands, Ian is low and no one realizes it. Yet.

Mickey wakes up spooned against Ian and he allows himself to smile.

How the fuck had they ended up here?

Little does Mickey know, it’s the last time he’ll wake up with Ian’s hand around his for awhile.

* * *

 

The seventeenth time they hold hands, they’ve reversed roles and once again, they don’t exactly hold hands.

Ian is the one on the wrong side of the law and Mickey is the innocent one.

Ian is the one jailed on the other side of plexiglass window and Mickey is the one looking at him with soft wide eyes and whispered “I miss you’s”.

“It’s going to be okay”

“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone, Mickey. I was just trying to help Yevgeny.” Ian mumbles back.

This time, it’s Mickey who puts his hand on the glass.

Ian doesn’t tell him to take it off.

Instead, Ian presses his hand up against the glass, up against Mickey’s, and swears he can feel the heat of his skin through the window.

“I know, Ian.” Mickey says forcefully. “Now it’s time to help you.”

* * *

 

The eightteenth time they hold hands, it’s a goodbye. Not a forever goodbye like they have had close calls with in the past, but more like a promissory goodbye. A promise that things will be better when they are reunited.

“Two weeks, Gallagher. Three tops.”  Mickey coaches as he and the other Gallaghers stand in the waiting room of the hospital. “Walk through the doors, listen to the doctors, take your meds, talk to the quacks. You can do this.”

It’s the same thing all of his siblings have said to him over the last couple of days, but of course it means more coming from Mickey.

“I can do this. I can do this.” Ian chants quietly. “I can do this.”

* * *

 

The nineteenth time they hold hands, it’s after Mickey gets the call that Ian’s time in the mental ward has come to an end.

Ian’s eyes are bright and clear as he walks through the hospital doors.

Brighter and clearer than they have been in months.

Brighter and clearer than they have been in years really.

He smiles shyly at Mickey, who takes that as the signal to charge full steam ahead towards his boyfriend and practically tackle him into a hug.

Ian eventually pulls out of the hug, grabs Mickey’s hand and brings it to his lips for a kiss.

“Thank you, Mickey.” He says in a low voice before breaking out into a slightly larger smile. “I did it.”

* * *

 

The twentieth time they hold hands, it’s because Ian complains that they never hold hands.

“You don’t hold my hand enough.”

Ian is at home and stable. He has a normal job and things between him and Mickey are better than ever.

Sure, they have their bad days, but all in all they are exactly what Ian has always wanted them to be.

They are happy.

Anyway, the twentieth time they hold hands, it’s because Ian complains that they never hold hands.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

Ian grabs Mickey’s hand and waves them in front of Mickey’s face. “I mean this. We don’t do this enough.”

“We’ve fucking held hands before, Ian.”

Ian sighs heavily and rolls his eyes at his boyfriend. “I know we’ve held hands before. I’m just saying we don’t do it enough.”

“Why hold hands when you can fuck?” Mickey asks, though he hasn’t detached his hand from Ian’s quite yet.

“It’s all about the intimacy, Mickey!” Ian exclaims, making sure to emphasize the word intimacy.

“What’s more intimate than your dick up my ass?” Mickey questioned with a smirk.

Ian yanks his hand away from Mickey’s and lets out a frustrated growl. “Never mind. It’s stupid.”

He starts to stand up and walk away, but Mickey once again grabs his hand and drags him back onto the couch. He scrambles into Ian’s lap and smiles brightly at Ian’s sullen face.

“Don’t be a baby, Ian.”

“I’m not being a baby.” Ian pouts out like a… well like a baby.

Mickey smiles fondly at his grumpy boyfriend and takes Ian’s hand between his and squeezes.

“You want to hold hands? Okay then. We’re going to fucking hold hands.”

\---

It becomes a game. It becomes a point to prove.

It eventually becomes annoying.

“Mickey, I need my hand back. I’m trying to cook dinner.”

“No.”

“Mickey, I need my hand back. I’m trying to brush my teeth.”

“No.”

“Mickey, I need my hand back. I got to take a piss.”

“No.”

“Mickey, are you ever going to let go of my hand?”

“No. You wanted intimacy, jackass. You’re getting intimacy.”

\---

It all comes to head when Ian tries to stop the hand holding.

He’s walking through the living room into the kitchen when Mickey, who is sitting on the couch, reaches out and snatches Ian’s hand and threads their fingers together.

“Where are you going? Want me to walk you to the kitchen? We can skip and look at the flowers along the way” Mickey says jokingly but with a genuine smile on his face.

Ian glares at his boyfriend and tries to yank his hand back. “No. Let go.” He grumbles as he yanks again. This time, Mickey stands up with the pull and moves closer.

“What’s wrong, tough guy?” Mickey asks.

“You’re mocking me.” Ian mutters and tries once again to detach his hand from Mickey’s.

“No, I’m not.” Mickey cajoles. “I’m just doing what you wanted.”

Ian scowls. “Let go of my hand, Milkovich.”

“Make me, Gallagher.”

Mickey doesn’t expect for Ian to use their linked hands to try and flip him onto the floor, but his firm grip causes the redhead to go flying down with him.

How hand holding turns into them wrestling is unknown to the both of them, but it soon gets dirty.

They roll around on the filthy floor, both trying to get the upper hand before finally Mickey ends up straddled above Ian, pinning the redhead’s hands above his head.

Ian tries to glare up at his boyfriend’s winning smile but finds that he can’t. Mickey just looks too fucking cute.

“You complain when I don’t hold your hand and you complain when I do. Make up your mind, asshole.” Mickey says as he starts to let go of Ian.

Ian stops him though.

“Actually, it’s not that bad.”

\---

Mandy walks in five minutes later to find them making out on the floor, hand in hand.

“What the fuck are you guys doing?”

Mickey pulls away from Ian slightly and looks up at his sister.

“He didn’t want to hold my hand.”

As if that explains everything.

It kind of does.

* * *

 

They eventually hold hands enough to lose count.

They find a balance.

Ian no longer complains about a lack of it and Mickey no longer does it just to be an asshole.

There are still many other things in their fucked up lives they need to find a balance with…

But handholding was a good place to start.

**Author's Note:**

> mickeysupset.tumblr.com


End file.
